Indomitus
by Morbid DramaQueen10
Summary: Takes place toward the end of Emperor Mage. Numair is in hidding, Daine is missing, and thoughts are flying. What is the mage thinking? Numair's POV in the darkest moments of the book. Title is Latin for "Wild". One shot. Reviews are welcome.


**Indomitus**

This is my...10 (?) fan fiction so far, first with the Imortals series. It is a one shot, and will remain that way. There is nothing left to add after that final little line of "**x"**s. Sorry.

This takes place toward the end of Emperor Mage, and continues to the Tortall group's travel home. The main focus is Numair, and his concerns about Daine. I hope you enjoy it!

A note to my Artemis and Red Sky readers: I haven't ditched the my stories! My computer got a virus, and I'd already started the two chapters...and this was written on another computer. Enjoy this one, though, and know that I'm still writting, on paper, just not publishing. Besides, I said I wasn't going to post until March, anyhow.

Please review, I could use it!

**DISCLAIMER: None of these characters are mine, sadly! **

**Indomitus means "Wild" in Latin.**

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The crystal flickered once, than died abruptly. The magic was focused again, honed to envelop the subject.

"Magelet."

Again a glow arose from the center of the polished stone, but as it had on the countless its power had been called upon, the light faded when the rock's task failed to be achieved. What it sought should not have been so impossible. It was as if Veralidaine Sarrasri never existed in this Realm. Even a black opal could find a corpse.

He had been scrying for hours. First with a mirror, then with one of her possessions. She had dropped a hair pin the last (and only) time she visited his room, fortunately. Next he tried water, from a natural pool. The latest attempt, and soon last attempt, was a very old and very powerful method. Few mages knew how to scry with gemstones, let alone a noble opal.

Still, it would not find him Daine. Someone must have placed an anti-scry charm on wherever she was being held. But Daine could see magic, why didn't she throw the spell off?

"_Perhaps because she is otherwise occupied?" _A calm voice asked in his mind. Numair rubbed his emerald drop, the one that dangled from his lobe. The earring Daine had bought him, laughingly saying "It's lucky you don't have both pieced—else I would 'av been able to buy you any!". The memory flashed and he tried again.

"_It's not working" _Another voice, this one cold and commanding, mocking. _"You, the most powerful mage in the Realm, cannot even find a mere girl?" _

Ozorne's voice burned in his mind. Numair fought the words with: _"Not a mere girl, full to the brim with magic, as full as you or I!" _

The first voice broke through his thoughts again. _"Calm yourself. Internal ranting will not help your Daine."_

Numair took a breath. Those words put to his mother's voice eased him. His mother, Goddess and Hag bless her. His mother, who had taught him all the magic she knew and then sent him to Lindhall when it became apparent that he had potential far greater than her knowledge could ever train. She would love Daine. He had almost thought to take his apprentice to meet his mother, but then thought better of it after Ozorne's comment in the bird observatory.

"_How can a man so vile love creatures so pure?"_ He wondered. He had taken the bird form himself, and both he and Daine agreed that birds were some of the most purely simple, calming, easy creatures in the world. Exactly the opposite of the nature of the Emperor Mage of Carthak.

"_How can one so old love someone so young?" _

That shamed him into silence. Taking up the crystal again, he called for his Gift and sought out his student.

"Daine." He called out softly. The room wasn't spelled, but Numair had not taken the precaution to seal the door or windows. That would only raise suspicion. Supposedly, he had barricaded himself in his guest room in mourning for the loss of his first, only, and favourite student. Spelling against listening charms would certainly be out of character, especially for the over-dramatic mage.

"You little idiot." He continued, just as soft. "Where are you, magelet?"

Moving the rock across a map of the palace grounds, he noted the stone remained alight longest over the Western Corner. The light faded briefly, than went out. Numair could have thrown the unreliable rock across the room, where it would shatter after making contact with the wall, priceless magic lost in a hundred pieces of pretty black crystal. Instead, his large hands tightened over the opal and he closed his eyes, letting out a slow, long frustrated sigh.

Daine was there, here, _somewhere_ and he was useless. She could be hurt, dying even. Numair would be truly frantic if he honestly feared her demise, but Ozorne was much too grateful toward the wild mage to kill her. His love for the birds would keep him from that act, at the very least.

Ozorne was a fault here. If Daine was hurt in any way, not even the Goddess or Mithros would save the Emperor Mage from the black robe's wrath. Numair felt the boil of anger building in his chest. If anything happened to his student…his fury would be something compared to a griffin's massacre. But Ozorne was counting on that.

"_BANG" _

His feeble door shook with the force. The sound of armor scraping against wood was heard. "MageSalmalín**,** surrender yourself immediately. You are being charged with scheming against the crown of Carthak! Open up now, or suffer being dragged away by force and displayed to the Carthaki people as a traitor!"

Numair sighed. He had counted on being granted a bit more time, possibly a few hours. The Emperor hadn't even spared him an hour to set up some alarm spells to warn him when the guard was approaching. After placing a mirror strategically on the desk, he turned to the wardrobe. The simulacra waited inside, eyes blank. The mage moved swiftly. He struck up black fire in his palm, pushing it into the area where the simulacra's heart would be. Leaning forward, he breathed into the illusion's open mouth. As a final step, he drew a line across his temple, closing his eyes to concentrate on the plan. When he pulled his fingers back, a purple-black orb followed, floating gently behind the digits as if controlled by a leash. He led it to the center of the simulacra's forehead and eased it into the skin. The figure blinked, and moved its head, looking around the wardrobe. There was another_ "bang"_ on the door.

"Act depressed. Don't speak much. Defend yourself fiercely. Don't show any weakness, do not call Ozorne by his first name, use a title. Do not request or allow word to be sent until after you are dead. And keep an eye out for Daine." He whispered desperately. "If you see her…"

The simulacra nodded. They switched places, the illusion shutting the wardrobe door behind him. At the very moment the second Numair opened the door, the real Numair cloaked himself and the entire piece of furniture in invisibility. If he was right and this arresting troop was the Emperor's Guard, then none of them had the Gift to see through spells. If he were wrong, he was dead. The ambassadors of Tortall were halfway across the Inland. Kaddar couldn't, wouldn't, save him. There would be no mercy.

"Tie 'im up, boys! And don't be afraid to show 'im whoos boss. The Emperor don't like this one. Go on wit it!" A rough voice commanded. The simulacra protested, claiming it did no wrong, but the words fell upon deaf ears. Numair winced at the sound of his double being cuffed on the ear. Then, they were gone.

He waited thirty minutes for who ever was to come to clear out his room, but apparently that order had been forgotten. He eased himself out and continued scrying, but not before he sent marble-sized orbs of alarm spells outside of the door through the crack between the wood and the floor. He didn't want to be caught on unawares again. This time there would be no simulacra to save his skin.

Hours passed. He continued to scry and started to pack some items that would be unmissed. For those that were, he left wrinkled drafts of attempted letters to Alanna, asking that she take those items back to Tortall with her.

When the moon was at its peak, he charmed his face into that of a younger man, a noble born he knew (and disliked) from Tyra. Throwing on a cloak, he set off for Lindhall's study. When he arrived, the old man was asleep at his desk, snoring loudly. Numair smiled fondly at the old man. He risked the Emperor's wrath to help his most beloved student, passing his loyalty on to that student; Numair would go to the Divine Realms and back to save Daine.

She was his responsibility, his charge, and he had failed her. This new wave of guilt and shame caused him to slump onto a window seat much too small for him. Daine would never forgive him. How could he, the most powerful mage in the Realm, allow her to become trapped, friendless, and alone? Why didn't he foresee all of this mess? Ever since she healed those stupid birds, ever since that confirmation with Ozorne in the bird observatory…oh, he was a pathetic mess of a blackrobe!

He was far too large to curl up in the window seat, so he just sat there with his head on the bubbled glass, leaving a greasy smudge on the cool pane. Tugging on a purple velvet cushion, he wondered why, exactly Lindhall had these installed. They were effectively useless. He didn't teach anymore, nor did he often have guests, either. In fact, they were far too gaudy to be of his mentor's choosing. Ozorne probably commissioned them as some "gift" (what Lindhall would really prefer was time off, or new books added to the library, not pillows).

There was nothing to do now except wait. Hours, days, possible even as long as a few weeks. He needed his simulacra to be executed formally, and Daine brought out in to the open, by either her own means or someone a little more powerful. Ozorne surely wouldn't reveal her until after the second Numair was "dead". That in itself could take days, even without a trial (and there certainly wouldn't be any trial). If Numair cared about how the Carthakis viewed him, he would have fled. But he didn't, not anymore. Not even that kitchen witch mattered. Daine, Tortall, Alanna, John…they mattered.

Why didn't he tell Daine, tell her any of it? Perhaps, if he had…Alanna would have backhanded him for such thoughts. _"What's done is done."_ She'd say. _"Now try 'en fix it."_

He would. He would tell Daine, too. Tell her not only of his plans, but what he meant to tell her, what he should tell her…Nothing like this must happen again, not without her knowing that he…that he…

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"You little idiot." He whispered in her soft hair. She sobbed lightly into his robes. The salt would ruin the silk, but he didn't say anything. It was just clothes.

The hyenas circled. Numair stiffened when one brushed the edge of his robes, using it as an excuse to pull Daine closer. After a few moments, in which she attempted to regain her breath, she spoke, fiddling with the edge of the cloak that covered her.

"I was angry." She peeked up at him through her thick black lashes, nervous. He could scold her, but frankly was extremely proud of his magelet. She had single-handedly destroyed a palace in little under an hour. Pride swelled in him.

"That's apparent." He chuckled. "Have some help, did you?" His eyes followed the wild dogs.

Daine blushed. "More, actually. You know those old reptile bones of Lindhall's… the really big ones, with those huge long necks, and great big horns…?"

Numair narrowed his eyes, than sighed. Kaddar, in the background, shuffled his feet uncomfortably. It was then the mage recalled his student's now near nudity. He stepped back, the blood rushing to his face. Or, rather, he tried to step back. Daine wouldn't let go, sending a pang to his heart. She had been so scared. Poor magelet.

When Kaddar was occupied with the Hag's demands, Numair swept his student back up into a bear hug, prepared to tell her what he had held back for quite sometime.

Then he saw tears still faintly glistening in her eyes, and her mussed hair, and her slightly quivering bottom lip, and the tint of red in her eyes and cheeks. She was only 15. Barely out of girlhood. He had no right to ruin this perfect time in life, when rebellion and spirit grew so much. Especially not now. Especially not after she'd already been forced to mature so early by the demands of life. There was no real reason to, anyhow, save for his own selfishness.

Sighing for the perhaps twentieth time that night, Numair smiled down at his student, who then gave a wearily smile, then promptly fainted.

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Back on the ship, sailing toward Tortall three nights later, Numair sat out under the night's sky, gazing at the stars, attempting to make out the constellations. His favourite, Fawkwen the Great and the Griffin, where nowhere to be seen. Probably the only place they could be seen this year was up closer to the mountains. Or maybe down by the Copper Isles. He was never very good with the seasonal geography of the stars.

Daine's beloved picture of twinkling light, Desodoma, Horse Warrior, was high in the sky, the flaming nostrils of the war horse glittering. It was always seen, no matter what time of year, in Tortall. Grinning, the mage recalled the night he had first shown his magelet the wonders of the night sky, how she had gasped at the pictures suddenly became clear, and how she had demanded that he show her all of them, all that he knew. Laughing, Numair gladly did, and when they were next at the city the scoured the castle's library for a book to show them even more star-pictures.

There was a cough from behind him, and the mage glanced left to see his apprentice leaning over the railing, gazing at the reflections in the water, not more than twelve feet from him. He frowned. How had she gotten so close without him knowing?

Dressed in a white tunic and fawn-coloured breeches set, Daine had actually taken the time to brush out her wild hair and had braided the curly mass, too. Numair could see the blue drops hanging from her ears, the ones he had given her last Solstice. He always thought she look positively wonderful in blue. Pity she didn't wear it more often. Nature colours were more often found on the stout teenager—greens, browns, whites and creams grays, dusky reds, blacks. Rarely pinks, yellows, or blues.

Her large eyes met his, warm and innocent. "What are you doing?"

"Just enjoying the clear skies," He replied. "They're not like this in the city. Too much light, I suppose."

Daine nodded, and turned back to the water. Suddenly, a gray fin surfaced the gentle waves, then a head and a bottled-nose. Daine laughed, presumably at something the sea-mammal had said, then continued chattering. After a few more pauses, she explained to Numair.

"She's never seen a human as long as you are." The girl giggled.

"Ah, it comes from my mother's side. Those of Tyra tend to extend out a tad bit more than normal two-leggers."

She giggled again, then halted. Hurriedly, she let out the next part of the message, stumbling over sea-words that had no translation into two-legger words. "She says there's a storm coming our way—it ought to be here noon tomorrow. Though, it is a flightly one, she said it might pass to the east of our route."

"Ask her about when the waters will toss, or when we'll see clouds."

Daine nodded to the water. The smooth fin was gone, disappearing under the choppy blue-black of the waves. "Too late. Gone to hunt or to sleep with her babe."

"Calf." Numair said automatically. Daine put her hands on her hips angrily and pursed her lips, but he knew she didn't mean it.

They sat quietly for the next hour or so, only speaking when they had a particular star or some other thing to point out to the other. Daine was feeling sleepy, and leaned her head on her teacher's shoulder, unable to guess how comfortable it was making him. Happy, but sad. Was he fated to spending the rest of his life watching her grow up, surpass him, marry another man, and live happily to avoid the slanderings both of them would face if his hopes were to meet actual reality?

Alanna swung down from the helm, where she had been discussing possible routes for the following day's sail with the captain, when she spotted Numair and Daine leaning on the railing of the bow. "Hey you lot!" She bellowed, before noticing the drowsy, near-sleeping Daine. The girl started, grunted a hello, and snuggled closer to Numair. The mage greeted the lady knight with a weary smile.

"I was just discussing navigation with the captain." She said softly, casting an eye on her young friend. "He says we'll keep due north, but aim further west tomorrow, more in the direction of port. It's better we move closer that direction, the waves are smashers and the reef is nasty out on the drift, and we'd pass that if we kept to this direction."

"Ah, it's all better that way." And he told her about the dolphin's warnings about the next day's weather. Alanna nodded, and agreed to relay the message to the captain. "In the morning." She said with a yawn. "The rocking of the boat makes me sleepy."

Numair agreed. "I better get the magelet to bed. Can you make it there yourself?" He inquired down to the already-dead-to-the-world girl in his arms.

Smiling sleepily, she shook her head in a fervent "no". Laughing quietly, the mage propped her up. "Alright then."

He then practically all but dragged her to her tiny cabin, grinning all the way. They passed no one on their way down, he assumed every sane person had gone to bed.

Finally, they staggered into her cabin. Gently, Daine eased herself into bed, pulling the quilt in tight around her. Her head hit the pillow gratefully, and she made a sound of contentment. Numair extinguished the candle and was about to leave, when his magelet's voice caused him to halt at the door.

"Numair?"

"Yes, magelet?"

Yawning widely, she settled again, causing him to wait a few moments before her words slipped out. They were thick, sleep-heavy, and music to his ears.

"Just so you know…I'm really, _really _happy you weren't dead."

"I know, magelet. So am I."

"G'd night." She murmured.

"Good night, Daine."

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**~Dania**


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